The first Thanksgiving I remember was in Dixie. My grandparents’ home was over-crowded, but the kids didn’t seem to notice. That is until, we got yelled at for running in the house. And I learned other lessons that day, too:
Kitchens and adult talk could get heated, quick!
Alabama nights and kitchens could cool-off faster than people. People could smolder for years.
I could like chocolate cake; even if it was sliding apart.
Our families could gather together, despite differences and sometimes, even finances.
Food could be prepared and offered with love.
Grace could be said with reverence.
Folks could eat, until sated… and then some.
Adults could hug kids and each other.
Grandparents, parents, and kids could cry at goodbyes.